


When in Rome

by Wanderer (Straggler)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Gen, Other, Random extra characters, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straggler/pseuds/Wanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Charles decided to stand up for mutant rights, by sitting in front of a fountain in the middle of town square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a random story, random as in, I think I may have rushed it because I have no idea what I was thinking when I typed it all up. Anyways. It's different from my usual works which tended to...uh...follow the movie timeline or era, more or less. Yeah...
> 
> Anyways, all the characters don't pop up in one go -- for this chapter, you'll only see Charles and Raven. The others will come by, eventually.

He woke up from his accidental afternoon nap when the front door came to a slam and the house shuddered in dismay. His hair was mussed, there was a piece of A4 paper stuck on his cheek, but the thoughts that Raven was screaming all throughout the house made his vanity take a very large step back to make room for her rage.

 

Charles clambered off the couch, peeled off the paper glued to his face with drool and toed his way towards the loud mess of thoughts that was now hastily making its way up the stairs and towards his sister’s room. Another loud boom resonated through the house, shortly followed by a scream and a shattering of glass. That was when Charles decided to make a run for it.

 

‘Raven!’ He crashed through the door and barely ducked in time to the books that were thrown about the room, though none of them even came close to his head. When she finally turned to him, anger all across her face, that’s when he finally got a good look at her.

 

Tears were streaked down her face, and she was bristling back and forth from being a blonde to a red head and back again. Her eyes were constantly shifting color from blue, to green, to yellow, to a mixture of browns and greys. He had never, in all of his life shared with her, seen her this wrecked and tormented before. The closest he could recall had been when they were younger and when she had accidentally broken an expensive vase during their game of chase but even that time couldn’t compare to now. His mother had never paid it much attention before, up until the moment it laid in ruins on the carpeted floor.

 

‘Raven, what happened?’ Her room looked like a right mess, books were everywhere and a handheld mirror was lying on the floor in pieces. He winced at the thought of having seven years of bad luck follow her, but he had never been one for superstitions before so there was no point in starting now.

 

‘Would you date me?’ She asked with more bite than was necessary.

 

‘What?’ He backpedalled at the question, ‘you’re my sister; I can’t contemplate that!’

 

She bristled, quite literally, and then lashed out at a lamp. It wasn’t expensive, but he dreaded the thought of having to clean everything up.

 

‘In other words, no, right?’ She stalked to her stack of magazines and threw it across the floor, ripping some out from the glue that held it together as it went.

 

‘Raven, what on earth happened?’ He wanted to calm her down, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it; never liked his ability for making her do something or think something or feel something that she didn’t want to. So he let her throw her fit.

 

‘I hate people,’ she said as she sat on her bed, yanked at the zippers on her boots and kicked it off. One landed on top of her cupboard. ‘No, I hate _humans_. They’re stupid, ignorant, hypocritical, _stupid_ assholes!’

 

‘Language!’

 

‘Oh, shut up,’ she fumed, ‘it’s not like you _ever had to hide who you are_!’ She screamed again and picked up an overturned bottle of perfume from the cupboard, next to her boot, and made to throw it at the wall. Charles grabbed her hand before she could fling it.

 

‘Raven, stop it!’

 

‘You don’t understand! You never do!’ She changed back to her natural blue form, threw the bottle on the bed and stormed out of her room towards the bathroom to weep in anger.

 

As he listened to her cries that the doors and the old walls did very little to hide away, he looked around at what used to be her pride and joy. She had always made sure to keep everything in perfect order. Now, the room was anything but. The perfumes that she lined up beside the mirror were toppled over, some of them with their lids thrown off somewhere, the magazine she kept on her bedside table for midnight reading were strewn across the floor, some ripped to pieces, and the novels she often read when she wanted to think about happily-ever-afters were no longer in their alphabetical order.

 

There were pieces of broken glass on the floor, mirror shards, lamp fragments and the stained bottle that held all her hand-made stars were crushed beyond repair. He felt his heart break at the sight.

 

Charles sighed forlornly as he went into the kitchen to pick up a pair of rubber gloves as well as a dust pan and brush. As he slowly tried to bring back some semblance of order in her room, he couldn’t help but hear the thoughts of _I wish I was normal, Matt is a stupid asshole, I want a normal life, I need to stop crying, I don’t want to be blue, I want to be beautiful_ resonate throughout the house.

 

He wished people were not so cruel, and that Raven would see that she _is_ beautiful; beautifully blue.

 

Charles was almost done when she finally came out of the bathroom to help with the rest of her mess. She didn’t say a word, though her thoughts were still loud in his ears. He turned a deaf ear to them; put his shields up to muffle the noise. When they were done, he made her a cup of hot cocoa.

 

‘Did you add Irish cream in this?’ She eyed the drink from where she sat then looked up at Charles who was leaning against the counter.

 

‘Just a little.’ He added enough for a taste, not enough to make her drunk. Enough to make her to develop a warmth in a belly so she could sleep better, but no more.

 

‘Oh good,’ she blew at the cup and sipped at it carefully. ‘It’s good.’

 

He smiled. ‘Anything with alcohol in it is good.’

 

She laughed, but she looked tired; result of a good, hard cry.

 

He pushed himself off and kissed the top of her head. ‘I don’t know what happened, I won’t intrude, but I’m sorry for the hurt you’re going through.’

 

Raven sighed and took another long sip of her drink. ‘It happens.’

 

Charles didn’t like that tone, it sounded too much like defeat, and he had never ever paired that word with his sister before. Something’s happened, and she’s reaching her breaking point.

 

‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered to her just as she stood and took her cup with her. ‘Good night, Raven, sleep well.’

 

He couldn’t sleep that night, because Raven was reliving her day through her dreams.

 

His name is Matt; her former boyfriend. He saw their conversations, could hear it word for word. He felt her emotions, down in his core. The surprise she felt when he expressed that he wanted to meet a mutant; to get to know them. The anxiety when she bit her lip and asked him if he’d like to meet one now, at this very moment. The fear and excitement when she shifted, waiting for acceptance. The hurt at his look of utter disgust and then shame for ever loving him. Damn hypocrite…

 

‘Damn hypocrite…’ he repeated the words out loud, just so he could hear it.

 

He wanted to do something, but he was only good with words. He’s only ever been good with words, which was something that he often got beaten up for, but he always said what was on his mind and stood for what he felt was right.

 

They say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but is it really? They say that words can never break a person, but look what it’s done to Raven. His heart is still aching for her.

 

Three hours past midnight, an idea finally clicked in his head. There was nothing more annoying and more eye-catching than making a passive-aggressive stance for mutant rights. That night, Charles decided it was time to do more than just talk the good talk, it was time to stand up for what is right, what is theirs; equality.

 

He got out of bed, made a few picket signs with hard cardboard he found in the garage, painted words in bright red and blue across it with the use of the leftover paint from the time when Raven had been interested in the arts, packed a bag with enough food to last him a few days, a sleeping bag to go with it and an umbrella in case it rained. He set off the next morning, just when dawn came and left a note for Raven in the kitchen next to a plate of pancakes, because nothing helps a heart recover faster than something sweet to soothe out the bitterness.

 

\--

 

This was going to be harder than he had originally thought. There had been a small part of him that had hoped other people would come up and stand alongside him, but he had been fully prepared to go at it alone. After all, nobody was as brave or as stupid as him. He would’ve preferred the former, but he was starting to think it was the latter.

 

The first day had gone by with almost no trouble. Apart from a few jeers and sneers, he had been left well alone, sitting on the fountain in the middle of town square with a few picket signs put up beside him. It was almost as if they were just humoring him, making bets as to when he’d pack up and give up. There was a teenager just two years his junior standing beside a hotdog vendor with his friend betting down ten bucks that he’d be out by the end of the week.

 

The second day went by with a few more insults than necessary. He ignored them as best as he can, and occasionally talked to a few people that bothered to ask him why. In the middle of his talk, he got egged. It was disgusting.

 

On the third day, there were more eggs involved, but that’s what the umbrella was for, apart from keeping him dry from the rain. Though, it felt like such a waste; there was at least a good full tray worth of eggs lying in pieces on the floor. Not only was it a total waste, but it was littering.

 

He went home that night to clean up, shave, pack a few more things to eat and got a good night’s sleep. He set off again before dawn and sat resolutely in the only patch of concrete that was not sprayed with egg bits.

 

On that fourth day, a brunette news reporter came up to him.

 

‘Hi, I’m Cassandra from NBC news, I was wondering if you’ll spare us a few minutes to talk about what you’re doing here?’

 

A little line of thrill ran down his spine as he stood to shake her outstretched hand. ‘Of course, I don’t mind at all.’ He thanked his lucky stars he went home the night before to shave, otherwise, he’d look like a complete hobo.

 

‘Great,’ she turned to her camera man and gestured for him to roll. On the third count, the red light flicked on and she began. ‘This is Cassandra Sanders reporting live from Town Square. What we have here is a man on a mission fighting for mutant rights. Tell us, sir, why are you doing this?’

 

‘The better question is, why not?’

 

She stalled a moment, held the microphone in front of him for a scant two more seconds before she asked again, ‘would you please tell us what you’re trying to achieve here?’

 

‘I believe anything worth having is worth fighting for. What I’m aiming for is equality between humans and mutants, for our rights to be the same.’

 

She tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear as she opened her mouth to ask another question. ‘But sir, surely you can see the differences between humans and mutants. The law can’t—’

 

‘There’s actually very little difference between humans and mutants, especially when you look at us at a molecular level; DNA, RNA, protein biosynthesis, and so on. If we look at it at a physical point of view, I can claim you’re a mutant, too.’

 

‘Excuse me?’ She started, her tone sounding confused and just the slightest bit scandalized.

 

‘It’s all about genetics. Let me explain. What you have here,’ he pointed to her face, ‘is an uncommon mutation called melanocytic nevusin, in other words, a beauty spot.’

 

‘Oh, I see, but that is not what I meant.’

 

‘Everybody is born equal, the same; we’re all humans, some with more unique qualities than others. Your birthmark is considered to be a very attractive feature.’

 

She blushed at the compliment, brought a hand to touch the skin just beneath her eye, but quickly brushed it aside. ‘Not many people are as open about mutations and genetics as you, pardon my saying.’

 

‘See, what I don’t understand is why it’s OK to stand up for human rights, even gay rights, but not for mutant rights, isn’t it the same thing?’

 

‘With all due respect, sir, I think it’s—’

 

‘It’s the same as being a racist. You’re discriminating against mutants just because they’re different. It’s the same as discriminating against blacks or albinos just because they look different.’

 

‘It’s not the same, like you said, there are different qualities. The law—’

 

‘Of course it’s the same.’ He ignored the second part of her comment. ‘You’re doing it right now, you’re trying to justify why mutants are lower than humans when they’re the same as everybody else.’

 

She tightened her grip over the microphone. ‘I am not—’

 

‘It’s the same as being pronounced guilty until proven innocent.’ He could see her camera man gesturing for her to _say something; you’re going to ruin yourself on national TV!_ ‘You know, not all humans are saints, either. There are murderers, psychotics, pedophiles and so on. They’re given a trial, while mutants are immediately shipped off to labs for testing regardless of whether they’ve done something wrong or not. Do you think I’m wrong?’

 

‘I never said you were wrong.’

 

‘Ah, but you implied it, because what I’m standing up for is against what you believe. When it comes to mutants, humans become their very own jury, judge and executioner. Am I still wrong?’ He smiled unassumingly.

 

Her mouth was hanging wide open; she hadn’t been prepared for that kind of a spiel. She couldn’t even get a word in. In the end, she plastered on a weak smile. ‘…Thank you, for that inspirational speech. This is Cassandra Sanders, reporting live from Town Square.’

 

As soon as the red light flickered off, she turned back to him with a frown on her lips and narrowed eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I never got your name.’

 

‘Charles Xavier.’

 

‘Well, Mr. Charles Xavier, for the record, I think what you’re doing is amazing, very brave, but it was very rude of you to think that I’m ignorant.’

 

‘I never meant to come off that way, believe me.’

 

She sighed, as if fighting off an impending headache. She probably regretted her poor performance, too. ‘I have a child.’

 

 _Damn, married._

 

‘She’s autistic, but with all this talk about mutants, they think she’s something else.’ She swatted the air, and for a moment, he saw an image of doctors crowding a very small, and very frightened girl. ‘Honestly, I don’t care, she’s my baby girl, and I’ll do anything to protect her; I never want to see her from behind a glass window.’

 

He nodded, and felt sympathy for her. He regretted jumping to conclusions and going down her throat about it. ‘Forgive me for assuming and, as they say, making an ass out of you and me. But we’re fighting the good fight, Mrs. Sanders.’

 

‘Ms.; divorced.’

 

 _Ooh…_

 

‘My husband left me because he thinks I’m _defective_.’

 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘Actually, it’s been discovered that males are the ones who carry the mutant gene and pass it on. So technically, it’ll be your ex-husband’s fault.’

 

She laughed, and almost doubled over in amusement. Charles thought it was probably the first time she’s let go this much in a very long time. After a while, she straightened herself out and smiled, showing off her dimples as she did so. ‘Thank you, it’s been a while since I laughed like that.’

 

‘Anything at the expense of your ex-husband.’

 

‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’

 

‘Well, if you stay with me, the chances of you getting egged are very high. So unless you don’t want to end up going to the drycleaners more than usual, perhaps it’s better if I—’

 

‘Don’t worry, everything I have, I bought on special; very cheap.’

 

‘Well, then, coffee is fine.’

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we have a quick guest appearance. Names are not mentioned (though they've been tagged), but maybe you might notice them.

The sound of a door being keyed open shook her concentration, but before Raven could correct her movement, there was already a very squiggly black line going down the middle of her white polished nail. She sighed, screwed the nail polish shut and went over to the front door, waving her hand around as she did.

 

‘Charles, is that you?’

 

‘No, I’m a robber,’ he replied sarcastically.

 

She scoffed and imagined his eye roll. ‘Well, you’re doing a terrible—oh my god, what happened to you?’

 

He looked up from where he sat on the floor trying to pull his shoes off and saw the image of himself from her point of view; scruffy, unshaven and with bits of egg shell all over his hair and clothes. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ He grunted when he managed to get one shoe off, though the sock came off with it, no thanks to the egg acting as a superglue.

 

‘It’s obvious that your crusade isn’t doing much good other than to waste food,’ she retorted as she stayed well away from him and wrinkled her nose, ‘you smell.’

 

‘I’d imagine so. I think I still have egg on me from two days ago.’

 

‘Eww, gross!’

 

‘Can I get a hug?’ He grinned mischievously as he spread his arms wide open and attempted to catch her. She screamed, ducked and ran the other way.

 

‘Don’t you dare touch me, Charles Francis Xavier,’ she said from behind the chaise, ‘not until you’ve had a proper shower!’

 

‘I’m hurt!’ He joked but padded to the nearest bathroom anyway, couldn’t be bothered going to his personal bathroom because it was on the second storey. He hated getting the house dirty because it meant that they’d be more mess to clean up and since it was just the two of them living there now, there really hadn’t been much of a point to keep the maids or butlers around. Besides, they were more than capable of tidying up after themselves.

 

Charles cringed in disgust when he realized the sleeve of his shirt was stuck fast on his skin and considered getting into the shower with all of his clothes still on.

 

‘So, what did people say this time?’ Raven asked from behind the door.

 

‘You know, the usual,’ he said as he pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his belt, ‘I’m crazy, mutants are crazy, they should be kept away lock and key.’ There was a distinct crunch when he took off his jeans, and he barely managed to hold off the shudder going from head to toe. It was terrible the first time he had done this, the second time was just as awful, and he wondered if it would get easier and less disgusting with time and practice.

 

Then he realized her silence.

 

‘Don’t be disheartened, Raven,’ he began as he pulled off the other sock, the one that didn’t stick with the shoe, ‘it’s only because they don’t understand, and people fear what they don’t understand, and sometimes, that fear turns into unrelenting anger.’

 

‘I’m worried about you, Charles.’

 

The comment caught him off-guard. He turned to the door. ‘Why for?’

 

‘It’s harmless eggs now, but sooner or later, people are going to retaliate with something bigger and more hurtful.’

 

‘Don’t be silly, Raven, you don’t have to worry about a thing.’

 

 _Famous last words_. He heard her think out loud. He put his shields up and drowned his hearing with the sound of the shower.

 

The very next morning, he got bashed over the head with a rock and was rushed to the hospital. In a way, he wasn’t surprised; he sort of saw it coming but his reflexes were terribly slow. His excuse was that it was still very early in the morning and he hadn’t had his cup of coffee yet.

 

Charles woke up in a bit of a daze. The ceiling was very white, the lights were incredibly bright and the whole place smelled like their toilets, except it lacked the potpourri. He tried to sit up, but was met with resistance.

 

‘Sir, I ask that you lie back down until I get the doctor.’

 

‘Oh,’ he did as he was told, ‘right, doctor, of course.’

 

The orderly stared at him with something like skepticism in his eyes, but when he was sure Charles wasn’t going to up and go without warning, he quickly left to find the nearest doctor to give him a quick check-over.

 

Charles waited patiently, and expected a doctor or the orderly to be the next person he saw. Instead, Raven appeared, looking extremely livid and very put-off.

 

‘Charles, you stupid asshole!’

 

‘Language!!’ He shouted in alarm but quickly lowered his voice to a hiss, ‘this is a hospital!’

 

‘I don’t bloody care,’ she hissed in return. ‘I told you something like this was going to happen, you should’ve worn a helmet!’

 

‘God, and ruin my hair?’

 

Raven punched him in the arm in retaliation to his joke, and then jumped about two feet away when someone cleared their throat for attention.

 

‘Ma’am, please refrain from hurting my patients.’ He said with a practiced smile then pulled out his stethoscope from his pockets. ‘I’ll just be conducting a quick check. We’ve looked at your vitals; nothing’s damaged.’

 

‘Except your pride.’ Raven muttered.

 

Charles fully ignored that as he took in one deep breath after another until the doctor was satisfied with how it sounded. Then his eyes were checked, followed by routine questions; name, date of birth, history of drinking, drug use, family violence, etc.

 

During the questioning, Charles couldn’t help but notice the orderly standing beside them jotting down all of his answers down on a clipboard. His attention never broke, though he occasionally smirked to whatever Raven muttered beside him.

 

‘Right, nothing appears to be wrong, but I’d like you to come back in a week for another check-up. Also, if you feel any discomfort anywhere, please don’t hesitate to come in for another visit, alright, Mr. Xavier?’

 

‘Yes, sir, not a problem.’ He had the strangest urge to salute the man.

 

‘Here are your forms,’ he signed two in a flourish and handed them over, ‘please take them down to the front reception and you’re free to go.’

 

‘Thank you.’

 

The orderly showed them the way out, and during the entire way down, Charles couldn’t stop staring at the man despite Raven’s incessant yammering about helmets, and eggs and bloody rocks. Despite the soreness in his head for the duration of the day and the next, he was adamant about returning to his post by the fountain to stand up for mutant rights as soon as he was able.

 

\--

 

‘You like mutants, don’t you?’ A woman asked.

 

Charles looked up from where he had been reading a Doctor Who novel and noted her blue-green eyes and dark hair, then he noted the child beside her, pale with the strangest blue-green hue on his skin and gills along his neck.

 

‘I wouldn’t be fighting for mutants rights if I didn’t appreciate their unique beauty and abilities,’ he said as he stood and stared at the both of them, more the child than the woman. ‘Did you have questions about genetics and mutations?’

 

She smiled bitterly. ‘Not about genetics and mutations, no.’

 

The smallest hint of a frown was marring his features. There was a flash of images of a baby boy being born, _congratulations, you have a healthy baby boy_ , then of a mother and father shouting _this isn’t normal! Cut it off, now_ trying to snip away the extra skin between the boy’s fingers while he howled and screamed and kicked, then another of the same boy, older now, but shouting and crying because _it hurts, it hurts, mum, my neck hurts!_

 

‘Then…’ he began slowly, unsure how to proceed, ‘how exactly can I help you?’ The images shook him and his fingers twitched at the phantom pain he felt between them.

 

‘Do you want him?’

 

He widened his eyes in disbelief. ‘Excuse me?’ He was happy he left the book on the fountain ledge, otherwise he would’ve dropped it right on the floor.

 

‘If you won’t take him, then we’ll have to go to the nearest orphanage and leave him there. At least with you, I know he’ll be fine.’

 

He felt breathless as he looked at her and realized that she was not lying, or remotely joking. ‘Ma’am, that is—I…I honestly don’t think leaving your child with me is a good idea.’ He looked down at the boy who was staring at his opened-toed shoes while his fingers anxiously scrunched up the hem of his shirt.

 

 _I can’t take him back._ ‘Between you and the orphanage, I think he has a better chance of a happy life with you.’ _I can’t take him back, my husband will leave me._

 

Charles was at a complete loss for words. He knew it wasn’t uncommon for people to abandon a child but he never thought he’d end up being in the care of one just because the child was different; not to their liking. It was wrong, and it made his heart ache for the boy.

 

She took his silence as assent and quietly nudged the boy over to him. ‘His name is Marcus,’ she began as she knelt down, tucked his short hair behind his ears and gave him a small bag with a clown fish on it, ‘he likes bath time and he likes to eat sushi.’ Her eyes were shining with tears but she resolutely held them back as she stood up and looked at Charles with plead in her eyes. ‘He also likes to sing and read colorful picture books, and he’s very smart; he can speak in conversations now and he’s only two years old.’ A watery smile was on her face, and for a moment, he felt her glow with pride for her son, but it was quickly followed by guilt and gut-wrenching remorse. ‘Please, look after him for me,’ she finished in a shaky whisper. _I’m so sorry._

 

‘I—’ he paused, felt a tug on his pants and he looked down where the boy was now crying silently into the leg of his jeans. At the hiccup, he felt another stab at his heart. When he looked up again, the woman was walking away with a hand over her mouth and sob stuck at her throat.

 

Charles knew who she was, Sheryl Wilson, full-time house wife with excellent baking skills, married to Nicholas Wilson who was a small-time accountant doing well and about to get a promotion. She was the mother to Marcus Flynn Wilson, who was a mutant who could swim and breathe underwater. If Charles’ heart weren’t fit to burst from heartache, then he would’ve thought how astonishing the boy was, remarkable in every way.

 

If Marcus would ever pluck up the courage to ask about his mother and father one day, he would tell him, everything he knew. But until then, he had a grieving boy to console because he had just lost his family simply because of how different he was from everybody else.

 

\--

 

Raven had never been good with kids, Charles remembered her telling him once, twice, a lot of times, actually. But he saw the way she had taken to Marcus, how her heart panged for him the exact same way his did.

 

Charles watched them by the doorway as Raven quietly read him a picture book about a very hungry caterpillar. Marcus was sullen, very quiet, hardly ate anything during the entire day, too, and as much as Charles wished he had made Sheryl take her child back, convinced them that nothing was wrong with Marcus, it would’ve been immoral of him to do so, and his actions would’ve provoked more than placate.

 

Trying not to make a noise, he steadily made his way over to his bedroom to sit by his study table.

 

What gave people the right to abandon a child as special and unique as Marcus? He supposed it was the same with Raven, how she resorted to stealing from their kitchen because she was starving, because she had no home to return to, because her family left her to fend for herself in the dangerous outdoors. He supposed it was why Raven took to Marcus, because she had her own hurts to heal and she wanted to help Marcus get over it, too.

 

There was a creak by the door, and he turned to see Marcus, clutching his bag close to him because it was the only thing he had that reminded him of home, the only thing that smells of home.

 

‘Yes, Marcus?’ He began softly, he didn’t want to frighten him; Marcus was already miles and miles away from his comfort zone.

 

Quietly, Marcus made his way over to him, dropped his bag on the carpet and then clung to Charles’ pajama pants. Tears began to sting his eyes as he gently ran his fingers through the boy’s still-wet hair in a comforting gesture. ‘I’m so sorry, Marcus.’

 

From the doorway, Raven watched them with tears in her gold eyes. Silently, she walked towards Charles and stood behind his chair before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and cried in very much the same way as Marcus; broken, helpless and without self-worth.

 

The world was indeed very cruel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose you might consider this a shameless plug, but here's my tumblr blog. =D
> 
> Link: http://straggling-wanderer.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Chinese New Years Eve!!! I went to a fireworks display and it was GORGEOUS!!!
> 
> Tomorrow, we'll be having dumplings. X3

There’s a child sitting in his lap, an opened picture book in his hands and an umbrella to shield his back from the merciless afternoon sun. They were reading about Octty the Octopus. He had already bought five books for Marcus and Raven bought eight more to fill his bookshelf, but then this one caught his eye and he purchased it as soon as he read the blurb. He thought it fitted well with the point he was trying to make about being different.

 

‘ “You can’t play with us. You are not an octopus!” ’ Charles said in a slightly higher tone than he normally would just for the dialogue, just to hear Marcus giggle at him whenever he did. ‘Octty was surprised. He replied, “Of course I am one!” The octopus wearing a red ribbon,’ he pointed at the picture, ‘pushed Octty away and said, “You are not like us. Look at your tentacle.” Octty felt very lonely. Feeling helpless, he left the group.’ Charles made to turn the page, but was stopped by a webbed hand. ‘Yes, Marcus?’

 

‘Mean.’ He said as he pointed at the four other octopuses.

 

He smiled at the little pout on the boy’s lips. ‘Yes, they are.’

 

‘Why?’ He turned his blue-green eyes to Charles, an exact replica of his mother’s.

 

‘Because they don’t understand. It’s not bad to be different—’

 

‘Like me?’

 

He smiled and patted his hair, which always seemed to be wet. ‘Yes, like you and like me. It’s not bad to be different, but people will always be scared of things they don’t know or understand, at first.’

 

‘When will…’ he struggled with his words, ‘when will they understand?’

 

‘When they’re ready.’

 

‘When will they be ready?’

 

That was the thing about children; they always ask so many questions, some easy, some incredibly insightful and some so terribly hard. ‘I don’t know. Soon, I hope.’ _Tonight, tomorrow maybe?_

 

Marcus nodded and pulled his hand away to stare at the picture some more. ‘Me too.’

 

Charles turned the page, and continued reading. ‘As tears came rolling down his cheeks, Octty swam as far as he could until he reached an underwater cave.’

 

\--

 

Marcus liked playing in the fountain, and Charles didn’t mind it as long as he didn’t try to dunk his head in the water, or drink it because he was thirsty. At least he doesn’t get wrinkly skin if he stayed in the water for too long. Charles supposed it was part of his mutation, his skin more specifically.

 

‘Marcus, what did I tell you about picking up coins in the fountain?’ He asked without turning away from the book in his hands.

 

‘They’re not mine to pick up?’ He hazarded a guess.

 

‘Yes, so put them down and don’t you put them in your pockets. I’ll know if you do.’

 

Marcus pouted but obeyed regardless. He dropped them with a tinkle and returned his attention to the newly-purchased octopus he named Octty and the set of rubber ducks in various sizes while Charles returned to his Torchwood novel. It was just getting good.

 

As he listened to the childish laughter and splash of water behind him, he couldn’t help the small smile from appearing on his lips. It’s been roughly two weeks and Marcus has certainly opened up to them. There were still some nights where he didn’t want to sleep in his room alone and often went to Charles’ bed to snuggle up next to him, and there were also times when he woke up crying and asking for his mother and hugging his bag closer to him for the kind of comfort that Charles couldn’t give. There were often times where he would wordlessly go up to Charles and sniffle into his pants for no reason other than that it was comfortable, but in the mornings, he would be fine, especially with pancakes for breakfast and a cup of orange juice with the pulp still in it.

 

‘Marcus, are you thirsty?’ Charles asked as he pulled his bag closer and pulled out a flask of water.

 

‘No?’

 

‘No? Is that a question or an answer?’ He turned and watched the boy hold onto the octopus with something like a guilty air. ‘Did you drink the fountain water?’

 

‘No…?’

 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’

 

‘…No…?’

 

Charles sighed and gestured for him to sit down next to him. ‘Here you go, and please, stop drinking fountain water; it’s terrible stuff.’

 

He shook his head as he drank from the flask. ‘Nope!’ He said once he was finished. ‘It tastes salty, like the sauce you get from cooking vegetables with!’

 

Charles shuddered. ‘No more, OK? Please, no more.’

 

Marcus pouted again, but obeyed. For now, at least.

 

After a quick snack of sliced fruits and half a tuna sandwich, he went back to playing in the water. Charles was about to consider pulling out his umbrella to cover his back when a shadow suddenly loomed over him. He looked up and saw a silhouette of a business man. As soon as Charles shifted to the right angle, he saw deep amber eyes stare back at him.

 

‘Yes, sir? May I help you?’ He realized how much he sounded like a waiter or a store clerk. He figured he should try and say something different the next time someone comes up to him.

 

‘Yes, actually.’

 

As Charles stood up, he saw the man gently pull something out from behind him. It was a little girl with long white hair and bright red eyes. His heart dropped and he couldn’t stop thinking, _oh no, oh no, not another one…_

 

From behind him, Charles noted the sudden lack of laughter and splash of water. Marcus was watching. Intently, from the sound of his silence.

 

‘Sir...is there any reason why you’re bringing your daughter to me?’ The girl reminded him of the rabbits he constantly saw in pet shops all over town. Most people don’t like them because the red eyes unnerved them, he could see why. It was almost as if she was staring right through to your soul.

 

‘She’s different from the other kids. You look after them, right?’ He noted the other boy behind him, different just like his little girl.

 

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat, but it was stuck fast and barely managed out an even sentence. ‘I’m not exactly a daycare facility, sir.’

 

The man chuckled wanly and then sighed. ‘No, I guess not. But the thing is, my wife is getting more and more depressed and I don’t know what to do with the kid anymore.’ _I love her, but I love my wife more._

 

Fury was bubbling away in the pits of his stomach. Why do people have to resort to this? Did he _look_ like a crèche? ‘Do you understand the repercussions of your actions? One day, your little girl is going to grow up and remember that her mother and father left her behind with a university student.’

 

‘When that day comes, we can talk,’ he said sternly, ‘but until then, I have a broken wife to return to.’ He stopped when he realized he had no place to be angry, no right at all. He sighed again. ‘I’m sorry, please take care of her.’ He gave Charles a suitcase full of clothes and her plush toys. It was remarkably heavy.

 

Before Charles could really say yes, or even a no, the man let the child go and left the square without a backward glance. She ran after him, frantic and crying in earnest, but he gestured back to Charles and told her to go. For the second time in less than a month, his heart broke for another child left behind.

 

His name is Edward Davis, who works a 9 to 5 job as a category planner for a large industry dealing in steel manufacturing. His wife’s name is Samantha Davis, who is a novelist and who is also on the verge of a mental breakdown because their baby girl doesn’t look remotely like them. They have another daughter, Gillian Davis, who is wondering where her little sister is, and who is going to grow up wondering if her parents are going to get rid of her too, because they don’t want her anymore like they didn’t want Melissa.

 

With as kind a smile as he could muster, Charles walked up to the girl and knelt down beside her. He offered to take her backpack from her, but she shook her head resolutely as she watched with tears in her eyes as her father left her behind and disappeared in the crowds.

 

People were watching, some with sad looks and guilt in their hearts, but Charles didn’t care for them. He cared for the girl who was biting her lip in a silent cry for help. Her dress was wrinkled from her tight grip and Charles wasn’t sure if he could provide her what she desperately needed; her family.

 

‘Well then,’ he pulled out a hanky from his pockets and handed it to her, ‘dry those tears away because aren’t you just an adorable little—’ Her ears twitched and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. ‘Rabbit, adorable little rabbit.’ Truly remarkable. Why couldn’t people see that? ‘Now, tell me,’ he began with a bright smile and felt a little chip of her sorrow leave her, ‘do you eat your vegetables like a good girl, or are you like Marcus?’

 

‘I like seaweed.’ Marcus said from behind them. He was making a little puddle on the floor from his sopping wet clothes. ‘That’s a vegetable.’

 

‘That’s true, but don’t interrupt me while I’m talking to someone else, it’s very rude.’

 

He pouted. ‘Sorry.’

 

She sniffed and pulled at her lop ears. ‘I…like carrots,’ she said quietly, shyly.

 

He smiled and patted her hair, careful to avoid her ears in case she was sensitive. ‘Of course you do.’

 

She sniffed again and wiped her tears away with her ears; they were great absorbents. ‘And crunchy apples,’ she said as he kept her gaze on the ground and finished almost inaudibly, so much that Charles had to strain his ears to hear, ‘I don’t like the soft ones.’

 

‘Neither do I.’

 

‘Me too.’ Marcus piped in, ran back to the fountain and began to rummage their bags for any leftover apple bites they have. He offered it to her when he did. She smiled, and Charles hoped that Marcus would be able to provide her the kind of companionship and comfort that she otherwise wouldn’t be able to get from either Charles or Raven. Children are more likely to share secrets with each other than with adults, from what he remembered from the childhood he shared with Raven.

 

\--

 

‘Charles, this isn’t right.’

 

He sighed. ‘I know, I know, but I can’t leave them alone; my heart won’t allow it.’

 

She watched him fondly just as he did for the children he had suddenly adopted without meaning to. ‘You’re much too kind. It makes me think like it’ll get you killed one day.’

 

He laughed at the image Cassandra thought for him, being buried under a mountain of mutant children. It was rather comical. ‘Wonderful, you’ll be top of my list of possible suspects then, Ms. Sanders,’ he replied with a cheeky wink.

 

‘In that case, I better off your head before you go and tell your sister,’ she countered as she brought her coffee up to her smiling lips.

 

Charles gasped in complete exaggeration, hand over his chest, ‘you wouldn’t dare, not in front of the children at least!’

 

Cassandra laughed, one hand over her mouth to stop the occasional hoot that comes out when she’s having too much fun. He found those hoots rather amusing, but in a very endearing way.

 

The both of them turned to the children. Melissa was reading a book with Kathy, Cassandra’s daughter, and Marcus occasionally peeked over their shoulder to offer his commentary on it. It was about Octty, again.

 

‘Charles,’ she drew his attention, ‘I’d like to put you in for another slot, if that’s OK with you.’

 

‘Another one?’

 

‘The more people see just how wrong this is; dumping their kids on another student like you, the more they’ll open their eyes. We need to push this along as far and as much as we can. I weep for the children that will one day lose their place in their family just because mutants aren’t accepted by the whole of society yet.’ _Why does it have to be the children?_

 

Charles bit his bottom lip in worry, but agreed with a bit of reluctance. ‘Yes, but you see…the first time we aired together, I ended up with two kids. I’m afraid that I’ll end up with more if I appear with you again,’ he said, half-joking and half-serious.

 

‘Somebody has to see this.’ She was adamant. ‘The more we spread this, the more open people will be, and the more people will join this cause. It’s for the better. We’re fighting a good fight.’

 

In the end, Charles agreed, but only if she bought him another cup of coffee; tall, caramel frappuccino with an extra shot of coffee, extra whipped cream, an extra slurp of caramel as well as a sprinkling of cocoa powder on top. He’d never admit this to Raven, but she got him positively _hooked_ on the stuff. It was completely intoxicating; he couldn’t live without it for more than two days or else he’d go through withdrawal. And when Charles goes through a withdrawal, be sure to give him a wide berth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book that Charles is reading is called, 'Octty and his Glowing Tentacle'. It was written by a kid for kids, which is amazing, don't you think? And you can find more information on it from this link: http://octty.wordpress.com/2011/02/25/5/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have more of the cast appearing in this chapter! You'll see as you read it. All their names will be mentioned unlike the last guest appearance who had NO NAME AT ALL! Not to say that that person wasn't important...they just didn't...uh...have a big role...yet...
> 
> Yeah...

At the end of one month, Charles was given enough kids to have his own little play school. It was amazing to be this close to so many different children with so many different abilities, but at the same time, he felt unprecedented anguish at the world for being so cruel. So cruel to children too young to understand what they’ve done wrong even when there’s nothing and nobody to blame.

 

There was Marcus, the boy who could swim and breathe underwater. There was Melissa, the little girl with white hair, red eyes and ears of a lop bunny. Peter, who had wings and could fly, Cody, who could spark fireworks from the tips of his fingers, Rachel, whose hair could change at will, be it long, short, or be it a variety of colors. There was also Mary, who could speak to animals, Kimberly, who could make flowers grow from the cracks between the bricks of the square, as well as Ben and Dylan, who both shared the ability to switch places with one another, though their limit only extended as far as one end of the square to another, but it was still amazing to see.

 

Raven, on the other hand, was not amused.

 

‘I wasn’t aware we were opening a nursery,’ she said when she came home to a house full of hyperactive kids running all over the living room, dining room and in the garden just outside the kitchen.

 

A sheepish smile plastered across Charles’ face as he continued to slice a plate of apples, oranges and bananas for the kids. ‘Perhaps I have a secondary mutation as the pied piper?’ He tried to joke as he pushed the full plate aside and began chopping up some carrots, celery and cucumber for another plate.

 

‘You realize that the pied piper _killed_ the children, don’t you?’ She pointed out as she walked away from the door and sat on the stool facing him.

 

Charles shushed her, ‘choose your words more carefully, please.’

 

She sighed in aggravation. ‘I leave for one week on a stupid winery course thinking that you’d be fine and then I come home to a house full of kids. How many are there? A dozen?’

 

‘Three-quarters of a dozen,’ he replied in a guilty mumble and avoided Raven’s scrutinizing gaze. Then suddenly—

 

_Charles._

 

His hand slipped, but just as well it chopped the carrot instead of his fingers. But rather than admonish Raven for that sudden distraction, he stilled his hand and stared at her with wide eyes. It was very rare that she would ever initiate a private conversation with him.

 

_You can’t keep picking up children just because their parents don’t want them anymore. I’m sorry, Charles, I know you mean well, I know you can’t bear to leave them alone in this stupid, heartless world, but you can’t keep doing this._

Charles bit his bottom lip as he turned back to the carrots that were now staining the board a bright orange. _They should never have been given to me in the first place. But Raven, think about it, if not me, then where else can they go? An orphanage? Into foster care? With the world the way it is now, the children would sooner rot in that building than ever be adopted, and even if they_ do _get adopted, it would sooner be to a circus with a freak show than to a real, loving family._

 

Raven shook her head and tried to push away the ache in her heart as she listened to the cheerful cries and shouts from the other rooms. The children were happy, they were being provided for, but this isn’t the right place for them. Charles and Raven don’t have the right facility; they can’t give the right education, they don’t have anything to give other than themselves, and sooner or later, they are going to run themselves raw. The children may be broken, but Charles and Raven are just as broken if not more. _We can’t keep doing this._

_Sooner or later, the world will have to open their eyes. Look at them, all of the children; the world can’t keep ignoring this. Sooner or later, mutants will become the dominant species._

Charles was right; back then when they were much younger, mutants were the minority, but as Raven looked at them now, with the youngest being 2 and the oldest being barely 8…she knew that this was the evolution of man-kind. But despite that…

 

She shook her head. _It won’t happen anytime soon._

_It’s already happening. I swear it._

 

Charles was brimming with confidence and determination, Raven could tell from the way he stood and from the shine in his eyes. She could feel it wrap around her almost like a blanket and while she had often thought them to be suffocating, she allowed it and relished in the warmth he gave her.

 

That night, she pulled out her dusty guitar from under her bed and decided to learn a few nursery rhymes. Kids like to listen to the spaghetti song, don’t they?

 

\--

 

‘Excuse me.’

 

‘Are you here to ask about genetics and mutations? If so, I’ll be more than willing to answer them.’ Charles said, finally out of the habit of providing good customer service like a store clerk or a waiter.

 

The man, teenager, roughly the same age but maybe younger, smiled at him. ‘Well, yeah, but I was wondering, this whole mutant rights thing, where can I sign up?’

 

Charles’ eyes widened in complete surprise and took him almost half a minute to become aware that his mouth was hanging wide open. It took two seconds for him to snap it back shut and think of a good reply. ‘Uh, well,’ or a reply as good as he could manage, ‘there’s no paperwork involved. I usually just sit here with the kids and wait for people to notice us.’

 

‘Cool,’ he grinned, showing off his white teeth, ‘I’m Armando, but you can call me Darwin, and this is—’

 

‘Angel,’ she interrupted after giving the man a hard nudge on his ribs. She tossed him a mean look but otherwise looked very harmless.

 

‘I’m Charles Xavier—’

 

‘We know.’

 

He smiled and extended a hand as a gesture of goodwill. ‘—and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Darwin, Angel.’

 

‘We saw you on TV,’ Angel began as she shook his hand, ‘we thought what you’re trying to do is great, I think there should be more people like you, promoting mutant rights.’

 

‘Seriously,’ Darwin joined in, completely foregoing the handshake for a manly hug instead, ‘you’re completely right about that whole ‘guilty until proven innocent’ thing, it really got to me. It’s already hard enough being a black dude, but coupling it with being a mutant, too?’ He scoffed, ‘man, life gets real tough.’

 

‘I was only speaking the truth,’ he backtracked a little, ‘if you don’t mind my asking, do either of you…’ he trailed off, not wanting to jump to conclusions or pry. Raven had mentioned him on a good few occasions that he had a terrible habit of doing exactly that. He was trying not to, but it was a hard habit to drop after having done it for so many years since childhood, something that came to him as naturally as breathing.

 

Darwin had another bright smile on his face as he pointed his thumb at his broad chest, ‘I’m Darwin, I chose it because it fits what I can do; adapt to survive, all that jazz.’

 

‘I see. I’d love to see it in action, one day.’

 

‘No problem, man!’ He gave Charles a hearty pat on the back and then helped Angel take her black studded, leather jacket off.

 

She smiled, and with a gentle twirl on her high heeled shoes, she showed him the tattoo on her back, which slowly rippled and came forth as bright, translucent wings. The rays from the sun sparkled from her wings, showing off the purples, the blues, the yellows and greens and reds.

 

‘Exceptional,’ he felt positively gob-smacked, ‘truly exceptional.’

 

‘You know,’ Darwin started as Angel took her jacket back but allowed her wings to air out and flutter behind her, ‘it’s really refreshing to see something other than hate from people. I was starting to give up.’

 

‘No!’ He shouted with more zeal than he planned to, gathering more attention than he meant to. ‘No, no, never give up, we need to keep striving; be the better men, and women. One day, we’ll all be equals.’

 

It was starting to sound like a badly rehearsed speech, but he couldn’t help it if he was being over-enthusiastic, if every word he spouted sounded like cliché and he painted everything with bright colors and dashed them with hearts and rainbows.

 

Angel smiled forlornly. ‘I don’t know, Charles, I feel a lot of hate for a lot of people that treated me badly.’ There was a flash, a memory of her wings being burnt once just because she was a freak. Charles felt his back ache in sympathy.

 

‘I know. I know it’s hard, but one day, we can put all of this behind us and keep moving forward. We’ll come to a compromise, one day.’

 

‘You sound so sure.’

 

‘I am.’

 

‘Good, we need someone to be.’ Darwin said as he looked behind Charles and noticed how all the children, and Raven, were watching them with rapt attention. He grinned and waved and they all smiled in return.

 

‘Wow, it’s been so long since I’ve met another girl my age, I was starting to think I was the only one,’ Raven commented with a sly grin, ‘my name is Raven, forgive my brother; he can be a bit over the top at times.’

 

‘We think he’s pretty cool.’

 

‘He’s awesome!’ Marcus shouted as he darted between their legs.

 

‘So Raven,’ Angel began as she regarded her with a cool look, ‘what can _you_ do?’

 

She faltered a step back and turned her attention to Charles, whose hand was comfortably in hers and squeezed reassuringly. He smiled, nodded and whispered to her, ‘I used to believe I was colorblind, until I saw you.’

 

‘Oh god, Charles, that’s so cheesy,’ she laughed and pushed him away, but clung to his hand desperately. In a blink of an eye, she shifted and exposed her true colors, blue and beautiful.

 

Darwin and Angel gaped, and then she exclaimed, ‘damn, girl, you sure got some moves!’

 

They laughed together, and for the first time in years, Raven felt comfortable in her own skin, accepted for what she is. For the first time in years, she felt free, and could finally breathe.

 

‘Um,’ a throat cleared behind them, and out of enforced habit, Raven shifted back to being blonde; normal.

 

There was another man, another teenager, fidgeting with his glasses and holding up a digital camera. ‘S-sorry, didn’t mean to bother you all, but…I was uh…I…’ he cleared his throat again and looked up at Raven. ‘May…may I take a photo of you, please?’

 

She blushed, a bright pink scattering across her cheeks. Charles smirked and gave her a nudge forward. She slapped him on the arm for interrupting. Marcus was staring up at all of them with curiosity in his eyes.

 

‘Sure, I guess,’ she tried to smile, but her cheeks felt wrong, and when she noticed that the guy wasn’t making a move to take a picture, she raised an eyebrow and asked, ‘when you’re ready?’

 

‘Oh!’ He fumbled with the switch while the others snickered behind Raven. It was kind of cute. Once the camera was on, he waited again.

 

‘You _do_ know how to use a digital camera, don’t you?’ She didn’t want to sound sarcastic, but really, she wasn’t that amazing so she didn’t understand his staring.

 

‘Yes, of course, but I’m waiting for you to change.’

 

She frowned and suddenly felt wary of the other. Was he trying to pull a stunt, or something? She won’t allow it. ‘What for,’ she demanded to know.

 

‘Because…your other form, the blue one, it’s really beautiful; I’ve never seen anything like it.’ His cheeks reddened at his confession and he kept his gaze solely trained on the camera in his hands.

 

Raven couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was being genuine. She’s meet lots of guys that say she’s beautiful, but she’s never met one who said that her blue form was beautiful. The one time she tried, she got dumped. So, it wasn’t out of the question for her to be cautious, though, even as she thought that, she couldn’t help but notice the way her heart was beating so rapidly at the declaration.

 

Somehow, without really even trying, he managed to win a little piece of her heart.

 

‘What’s your name?’

 

‘Hank. McCoy.’

 

She smiled, ‘well, Hank McCoy, congratulations, you’ll be the very first to ever have a picture of me being mutant and proud.’

 

Right before his eyes, she shifted and he couldn’t help but stare in obvious wonder. The way her skin rippled, the patterns, her _eyes_ , they were golden. His camera slipped and crashed on the floor. He flushed a deeper red at his idiocy, bent down to pick at his camera and chewed his lip in worry; he’d just made a complete fool of himself.

 

What he didn’t expect was for her to crouch down with him.

 

‘My name is Raven Darkholme, would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?’

 

‘I…I’d be honored to. You’re amazing.’

 

A giggle escaped her lips, embarrassingly enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Raven and Hank would've made a cute couple...you know, if Hank hadn't been so caught up with trying to be normal and making Raven feel as if having a physical mutation was something to be constantly worried over.
> 
> Yeah...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in this chapter, we'll have our previous guest (from chapter 2) making yet another appearance! I'm sure you'll be able to guess who it is...
> 
> Also, after this, we'll have just one more chapter to go and this'll come to a close.

Their ranks were growing by the day, not that Charles was trying to form an army or anything, unless armies these days consisted of children under the ages of 10 and a few teenagers still in college or just barely out of it.

 

It was a very ragtag bunch of people, but Charles had never felt more at home with them.

 

Hank confessed to Raven during their cup of coffee that he was a mutant, too. He wasn’t sure if his brain had anything to do with it, but he had enhanced speed and strength, though his accuracy was pretty much out the window. He was embarrassed to show her his feet, but with very little coaxing from her part, she got to. It was pretty wicked. When Raven told Charles, she regretted it immediately, because in the end, both he and Hank ended up huddled in a corner discussing science, philosophy, even religion. She rolled her eyes fondly at them.

 

As the week progressed along, they ended up with two more recruits. Both brothers, both with the same abilities, both with parents who wouldn’t stand up for them. Their names were Alex and Scott Summers.

 

‘Aren’t there special lenses for his mutation?’ Charles asked when he noticed the black blindfold.

 

Alex shrugged defensively. ‘We couldn’t afford it.’

 

Charles started walking away. ‘Right, back in a jiffy!’

 

Raven rolled her eyes again, who the heck still says that? Oh, that’s right, her brother does. She sighed affectionately.

 

One and a half hours passed and he came back with a white box which he gave to Scott, who gave it to Alex, who opened it and gaped and almost dropped it in his haste.

 

‘Oh god, please be careful with that.’ He swore his heart almost dropped to the ground, too. It was worth a lot of money, and it took a lot of walking around and talking to get it.

 

For the first time since Scott’s ability manifested, he could finally see. The grin on his face was blinding, and for the first time in years, he felt free, and for the first time in years, Alex felt genuinely happy, like a heavy weight finally lifted itself off his shoulders.

 

‘I owe you.’

 

‘Nonsense!’ He happily brushed it aside. Seeing Scott this cheerful and being told thanks was good enough to raise his spirits high up to the clouds. He could almost fly.

 

The next person came with a gaggle of children tagging along behind him. All of them had a shocking head of bright ginger hair.

 

Charles wasn’t sure if he could cope with five other little kids with him, not to say that he didn’t have room; having enough room was the least of his problems. It was just that…they didn’t have the facility.

 

‘Are they…’ _supposed to be here?_

 

The teenager winced and smiled sheepishly. ‘Sorry, they wanted to come with me. I had a huge blow out with my mum and dad, and they overheard, not that I was being quiet about it, and well…I couldn’t leave them; mum and dad both have full-time jobs and I’m their big brother.’

 

Charles couldn’t help but smile. It was very adorable, how his siblings followed his every step with something like admiration and stars shining in their eyes. It reminded him a little bit of how Raven used to be when they were much, much younger.

 

‘Don’t hurt Sean,’ one of the younger ones tugged on his jacket and said while the others agreed with him in a chorus of, ‘yeah, don’t hurt Sean!’

 

‘I’m not going to hurt Sean,’ Charles said as he knelt down until he was almost eye-to-eye with them.

 

‘You better not!’ Another sibling said. ‘We’re gonna suh-suh…’

 

‘Support?’ Charles provided.

 

‘Support him!’ Shortly followed by another chorus of, ‘yeah!!’

 

He laughed into the sleeve of his jacket as he stood up and regarded their sheepish older brother. ‘Very cute, I must say.’

 

He snorted affectionately, ‘Yeah, you say that now…’ _wait until they’re all screaming their heads off._

 

Soon enough, the minute one of them landed their eyes on Marcus and his toy Octty in hand, they did.

 

It was starting to get out of control; the town square was being filled with people, humans and mutants alike, young and old and everything in between all protesting for the same thing; mutant rights. Children starting from being just 2 years old and adults being roughly somewhere in their mid-forties; of course, they wouldn’t _say_ definitely what their ages were, not without being rude about it.

 

It made Charles swell with pride. Any day now, mutant rights will be granted and nobody will ever have to hide who they are, children will never be left without homes because of something they couldn’t control, people won’t be discriminated against because they don’t look like everybody else. Any day now, it will come.

 

People can adapt and accept and learn to coexist; it’s not a pipe dream, it’s reality, it’s their world; their future.

 

Then one day, out in the warm afternoon sun, the orderly he met in the hospital sat down beside him as he read, “parenting for dummies”. Charles waited until he finished the paragraph concerning unruly children before he closed his book and looked beside him.

 

‘Yes?’

 

The man looked very much the same; all sharp angles and tired pale eyes, a result from taking slots that were predominantly between the late night and early morning; the graveyard shift.

 

‘Do you realize what you look like?’ He began, his lips quirking up at the corners to show straight teeth. It wasn’t a smile. At least, Charles didn’t think so.

 

‘Scruffy, for one thing,’ he said as he brought a hand up to his roughened cheeks and chin, ‘I haven’t shaven in a couple of days, but I’ll get around to it when I go back home with the kids.’

 

The man exposed more of his teeth. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

 

He raised an eyebrow at the man and wondered where their conversation was going. ‘Then enlighten me, what do I look like?’

 

‘A collector.’

 

‘Pardon me?’ _A collector?_

 

‘You look like a collector of young mutant children. Many people whisper of it, as well as other things, like an ill-guarded secret.’

 

‘I am not…’ he swallowed the lump in his throat. The revelation caught him off-guard, and as much as he wanted to deny it, _they’re children, not items to be hoarded_ , the more he thought about it, the more he realized how true the statement was. He was a damn collector.

 

He had been so caught up in the wonder of being surrounded by so many mutations and abilities, he forgot how quickly people would jump to conclusions about a man being surrounded by children more than half his age.

 

Charles looked away from the man and gazed over the heads of the children running around the square. In a posh, up-town cafe, he saw people turned his way, speaking behind raised hands. In the bistro just across it, he saw people occasionally pointing towards him, towards the children, towards the trash can. He didn’t need to be a telepath to figure out just what they were trying to imply. If he could read lips, he would certainly be able to pick out the words _disgusting, pedophile, mutant daycare, hidden motive._

 

His mood was plummeting, replaced by a dread that was quickly chewing away at his resolve.

 

It took Charles a while to realize that he was standing and staring blankly ahead, and it took him a while longer to realize that the man was standing beside him, watching him carefully, the widening of his lips gone. Charles cleared his throat but the lump was still there, too stubborn to let him breathe properly.

 

‘I—yes, I suppose…that’s very…true, if you look at it from the outside.’

 

‘You mean well, but it doesn’t stop people from thinking otherwise. A man standing in the middle of a collection of young mutants provokes a great many things to speak about.’ _The hospital is a breeding ground for foul gossip._

 

‘Yes, you’re right. I think I’m going to go home for a while now. Congratulations, I think you broke my resolve,’ he said with more bite than he meant to as he knelt down by his bag and began to pack away his books and whatever toys were nearby.

 

‘I never meant—’

 

‘Thank you,’ he jumped in before the man could finish; he didn’t want to hear anymore. His concentration was shot, and with it gone, he could hear the appalling thoughts coming at him from all directions. Charles wondered how he had ever missed it. ‘Marcus, put on your jacket, same with you Melissa.’ _Sean, gather the kids, would you?_

 

Sean looked up from where he had been trying to wring out the fountain water from his shirt, but didn’t need to be told twice as he gave a loud whistle. All the ginger-headed boys and girls clambered over to him like little ducklings.

 

‘Are we going home?’ Marcus asked as he slipped on his t-shirt but ignored the jacket. ‘You look like you need a shave.’

 

He tried to smile, but he realized that it would only seem stupid to even try. ‘Yes, yes I do.’ _Raven, I’m going to drive the van home first._

_…What? But it’s only two in the afternoon. Is something wrong?_

He looked across the square and immediately spotted his sister, blue and very noticeable amongst the crowd, especially with her red hair painting her like a bright target. Her eyes were staring right back at him, before momentarily flicking over to the man just beside him. She frowned. _Isn’t that the guy we saw at the hospital?_

_Yes, yes he is._ He zipped up the bag and asked Melissa to help with the signs. _I’ll get Sean to drive back and pick up guys up later, OK?_

 

Raven was now speaking to Hank, who had his arms full of Ben and Dylan, and was now making their way towards them. _Can we talk about it?_

_Later, I need to clear my head._ Charles didn’t wait for the both of them to catch up before he took Marcus’ and Melissa’s hand and started walking towards the direction of his 12-seater van, something he needed to buy when he realized that he had nine kids to transport from point A to point B and back again. Using the bus got tedious after the first time.

 

 ‘Right then, who wants spaghetti for dinner?’ He asked, just for the sake of finding something else to think about. Food was always a good topic to think about when he desperately needed a distraction from all the negative thoughts he was picking up from everybody today. He was starting to get a headache.

 

‘Can we have a potato bake instead?’ Melissa asked as she toddled along behind him, the hand-painted signs clutched close to her.

 

‘I want lasagna.’ Marcus said with a hop and a skip.

 

‘I’m feeling a bit lazy,’ Charles confessed and ignored the worried thought that was following closely behind them, ‘but we can have the potato bake, too.’

 

‘OK then, I like spaghetti and potato bakes.’

 

‘Great,’ that’s dinner sorted. Now to get his head sorted.

 

As all five of Sean’s siblings climbed in, along with Marcus, Melissa, Kimberly, followed by Angel and Darwin, Charles hopped into the driver’s seat and waited until everybody was buckled in and ready to go before starting the engine. Just as he was about to reverse out of the park, somebody tapped on his window. It was Raven.

 

He rolled the window down. ‘Yes?’

 

She narrowed her gold eyes at him before she said, ‘what did he say to you?’ She jabbed her finger to point behind her and he noticed the man, looking just the slightest bit chagrin, but otherwise looked perfectly fine.

 

Charles tore his eyes away from him. ‘Can we talk about this later?’ _I have a lot of things on my mind._

 

Raven narrowed he eyes, but stepped clear away from the van and gave him a mock salute. _Charles, you always have a lot of crap on your mind._ She thought to him fondly, but otherwise let him go.

 

He rolled the windows back up and began the short twenty-minute journey home.

 

The kids were singing the spaghetti song.

 

\--

 

‘OK, what is this about?’ Raven barged into his room just as soon as they got all the kids to settle in for the night; it was just past 9 o’clock.

 

‘Raven,’ he sighed but kept his gaze firmly focused on his parenting book, more to distract his attention than to read from, ‘I haven’t quite figured it out, yet.’

 

People are so fickle, so hateful, so cruel, who were they to judge him for trying to do something right? The thought gnawed at his insides, giving him indigestion.

 

She harrumphed and sat on his bed with her arms crossed, unmovable. ‘I’m not leaving until you tell me what got your knickers in a twist earlier this afternoon.’

 

He dropped the book on the desk with a loud thump. ‘My—I said I’ll tell you later.’

 

‘It’s already later, like…’ she counted the hours on her fingers, ‘7 hours later, Charles. That’s a new record for me.’

 

He sighed in aggravation as he closed the book and slumped down on his chair, it was terribly uncomfortable but it provided him another much needed distraction.

 

‘What did he say? Tell me.’ She demanded as she got off the bed and loomed over him. ‘The only times I ever see you like this is if you have an exam or paper due the very next day, and since it’s the summer holidays, that can’t be the case. So tell me.’ Raven gave him a forceful prod, two, three, until he batted her hand away.

 

‘He…’ he swallowed, but the lump in his throat was still stuck there, ‘he said something that made me question whether I’m doing the right thing or whether I’m doing this just to toot my own horn.’

 

She frowned and gently pulled him towards the bed. ‘Charles, he doesn’t know you, so ignore him, and I _know_ that you’re not doing this just for yourself.’ She still kept the note he wrote for her that first morning he left on his crusade for mutant rights.

 

_You’re blue, you’re beautiful, and it’s time the world sees that._

 

‘I hadn’t, not at first, but…’ he trailed off, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. It’s been years since he felt this out of place. How can one man break his resolve this easily? Like his walls were made of sand instead of bricks and concrete.

 

‘Charles, we’re doing the right thing, _you’re_ doing the right thing. If it weren’t for you, if you hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, where would the kids be? Where would they have gone? What choice would they have been given? Would they even have any?’ She took hold of his hands and squeezed reassuringly, desperately, like a life-line. ‘You gave them hope, and you gave me hope and this is the first time in years where I feel comfortable in my own skin, _loved_ for who and what I am,’ her voice was shaking uncontrollably, but she forged on, for her sake, for Charles’ sake, for everybody she cared for, ‘this-this is the first time in so long that I don’t—’ she sniffled and quickly brushed away the tears with the sleeves of her robe, ‘that I don’t have to hide behind pretences, and it’s not just me, it’s everybody in this house. You started all of this just for me, but you helped everybody that came along your path, you changed us, all of us. We’re all for the better now; you need to see this.’

 

His eyes were blurred with tears, and his bottom lip hurt from being chewed at, to stop him from sobbing like a child. He hadn’t realized how desperately he had needed to hear from someone else that everything was OK, they’ll be fine; they’re fighting the good fight and they’ll win.

 

Raven held him close as they both tried to fight back the tears from stealing their voices. ‘You keep telling everybody that it’s going to be OK, now it’s my turn to tell you; we’re going to be OK.’

 

That night, they both slept in his bed, just like old times.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The day was cloudy and there was forecast for a light shower of rain, but it would clear up within the half hour; nothing to fret over. Except that Charles has a gift for making Raven fret, a lot. And _she_ was supposed to be the younger sister? Maybe they got it the other way around.

 

Raven was flabbergasted. So was Charles, actually, at his own confession.

 

‘I think this is what I want to do for the rest of my life,’ he said, surprised at himself but felt as if he’s finally found his calling, ‘I want to open a school.’

 

‘Excuse me? Are you serious? I’m not buying you anymore caramel frappachinos.’ That had to be it; he’s high on caffeinated drinks, there’s no other reason for this outrageous declaration. A school? Charles hasn’t even graduated from his own damn papers, yet!

 

Truth be told, when Charles had decided to sit in front of the fountain for the sake of promoting mutant rights, the thought of opening up his own school hadn’t even occurred to him. His world had been smaller then, always thinking about the short-term; graduate, find a job, stay as happy as possible. But now it’s extended to finding a life-long career, keeping it and nurturing people to grow as they came along.

 

Something was fluttering in his stomach like butterflies. He laughed, couldn’t believe he was still capable of getting butterflies in his tummy, but it felt so wonderful.

 

‘Yes!’ He jumped to his feet from where he sat and turned to Raven with a wide smile on his face. ‘I’ve decided.’

 

‘No,’ she stood next to him and held out a threatening finger at him, ‘no, no-no-no. Charles, I think you need to think about this a lot more. You were on the verge of an emotional breakdown two nights ago and suddenly you want to open up your own school?’

 

He understood her skepticism, but he was certain, had never been this certain his entire life; this was his calling and he was going to pick up that damn call. ‘I’ve thought about it, and I’ve decided, so yes.’

 

She seethed. ‘Charles Francis Xavier, you are—’ her eyes flicked over his shoulder and she snapped her mouth shut.

 

At the clearing of a throat, Charles turned and spotted the orderly, still all sharp angles, though the shadows beneath his eyes were more pronounced than the last time they met; double shifts, maybe? ‘Hello,’ he greeted cordially, despite the result of their last encounter.

 

‘A word, or two, if possible,’ he nodded his head to the side, away from Raven.

 

Her frown deepened and she grabbed hold of Charles before he could think of agreeing. _If he breaks you again—_

_Raven, he brought up a very good point during our last conversation, and I overreacted, but it’s not his fault._

She turned her simmering gaze back at the man and hissed into Charles’ ear, ‘if I see anything wrong, I’m coming over, no questions asked.’

 

He snorted but smiled at her all the same while gently prying her manicured fingers from his arm. ‘Thank you for trying to protect me, my dearest little sister, but I assure you that I’m more than capable of looking after myself. From now on.’ He added the last bit hastily and quickly gestured for the orderly to follow him to the edge of the square before Raven could think about trailing after them. When he looked, she was still standing by the fountain but kept her gaze firmly on them. It was both endearing and just a little bit creepy. Perhaps she had a big brother complex?

 

As soon as Charles’ attention returned to the man whose eye-bags looked even more obvious in the shadows, the man spoke.

 

‘I apologize,’ he said with the slightest of bows. It was odd to see but made the apology even more genuine.

 

‘You don’t need to apologize. If not you, then who else can open my eyes? Who else will speak their mind?’

 

‘Many others.’ He cleared his throat again, looking awkwardly out of place.

 

He shook his head. ‘No; they will think, they will speak amongst themselves, but they will never speak to me.’ Even now as he looked over at the cafes and many bistros surrounding the square, he could still see people with their hands up to their mouths, their stern gazes locked with the mutant children running around the square and the foul thoughts that were flowing over towards him. ‘If anything, I would like to thank you.’

 

The man frowned in confusion. ‘What for? I’ve done nothing to warrant your thanks.’ _The last time we spoke, it ended negatively._

 

‘You broke my resolve, but sometimes, you need to be broken in order to rebuild; to be firmer, stronger. I won’t be swayed any longer. I am fighting for what I believe is right.’ He turned back to the man and locked gazes. ‘People leaving their children just because they’re different, to someone like me is wrong, very wrong. I may look like a collector, as you said, but only because people want to see me that way; they want someone to blame. At least the children are brought to me, rather than left in a ditch somewhere to fend for themselves. With me, they can have a fresh, new start. With me, they can try again. With me, they can be equals. With me, they can stand together and be proud of who and what they are. With me, they can find a little bit of peace.’

 

Yes, he was aware that he just spewed out another bunch of clichéd crap; glorified rubbish, but it felt right.

 

The man stared without reserve for a scant few seconds before a smile, a real one this time, broke over his calm façade. ‘Astounding,’ he said as he looked at Charles with something like approval in his gaze. ‘Did it take you long to plan that whole speech?’

 

He laughed. ‘Not at all. When it’s you, I either have a great many things to say, or nothing at all. Today, it’s the former rather than the latter.’

 

‘Well then, Mr. Charles Xavier, you’ve thoroughly convinced me,’ he said, looking lighter than Charles had ever seen him.

 

He smiled and gestured back towards the fountain where Raven was tapping away at her heels. ‘Would you like to know what I plan to do once everything is settled?’

 

‘Please,’ he motioned for the man to continue.

 

As they walked back towards the middle of the square where most of them were gathered, Charles spoke his passion with wild gestures, enthusiastic tones and bright eyes. They occasionally bumped shoulders but they paid it little to no mind, comfortable in their conversation. Before either of them could settle on the ledge of the fountain, Raven yanked Charles over to the side.

 

‘What happened?’ She asked in a harsh whisper. ‘One minute you guys were conversing like two men who hardly knew each other and then the next, you’re all buddy-buddy?’ Raven knew how easily it was for Charles to get people to open up, all thanks to his optimistic personality, but even that was a new record by her standards. She didn’t know whether to be appalled or genuinely surprised or whether to call him a cheater for using his abilities, if he ever did.

 

‘We came to an understanding. If it makes you feel any better, he apologized.’ He couldn’t help the grin on his face when he saw her mellow out just a little bit.

 

‘He apologized?’

 

His grin widened. ‘He even bowed.’

 

‘I saw that,’ she narrowed her eyes at the man suspiciously, ‘I had no idea what he was trying to pull.’

 

‘He wasn’t trying to pull anything; trust me,’ she patted her arm consolingly and wondered when she became so distrustful of people. Or perhaps she was just being biased with the poor man.

 

‘Alright.’ She let it go with a one-shoulder shrug and released her claws from making permanent crescent marks on Charles’ arm. ‘Pushing that aside, we’re still not done yet with that whole “I wanna open a school” thing,’ she said with quotation marks.

 

Charles sighed good-naturedly as he brought his hands up to her shoulder to give a gentle shake. ‘You think I’m jumping too far ahead, that I’m running before I can get a steady foot down, but I’ve decided; this is what I want to do. I want to help children grow and accept themselves, learn and feel needed; wanted, loved and cared for. I want to live in a world where it’s great to be different, to be one of a kind, to be proud. I want to help kids know that there’s nothing wrong with them, that’s it OK to be unique, special and exceptional. I don’t ever want a child to ever feel alone, just because she’s blue on the outside.’

 

Raven was pouting at him adorably, and he knew that he had won another point from her.

 

She huffed and crossed her arms, kept her gaze focused elsewhere. ‘You always know what to say to convince me; you and your pretty words,’ she said with a friendly bite.

 

Charles laughed and gave her a quick hug. ‘Now, may I return to my friend?’

 

‘Oh, so he’s your friend now?’ She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. She had been somewhat sarcastic about the “buddy-buddy” comment, but apparently, he had taken it to heart.

 

‘I’ve yet to get his name.’

 

She rolled her eyes then pushed him towards the other with a shooing motion.

 

The man looked faintly amused when Charles returned to him. ‘Your sister, I’m assuming that’s who she is, is a rather aggressive woman.’

 

Charles agreed whole-heartedly, the slightest of pangs in his heart. ‘It’s the way she grew up.’

 

‘I see.’

 

Though it wasn’t mentioned, it felt implied; they went through a very troubling youth, Raven more so than Charles himself, who appeared normal on the outside and could hide in plain sight; his gift.

 

‘So, this school of yours,’ the man began, a hint of interest in his voice, ‘where would you procure the funds to build one?’

 

‘I haven’t yet spoken to my sister about location, but as for its’ funding, we don’t need to worry about that,’ he said with a sly grin.

 

The man raised a curious eyebrow.

 

\--

 

‘Mr. Xavier, how does it feel to know that your efforts have finally paid off after all these months?’ Cassandra asked with a bright smile directed to him.

 

The camera focused on him, all dazzling blue eyes and wide smile. ‘I’m ecstatic. It’s been long, it’s been hard and I’ve ended up with more kids that I ever thought of conceiving; it’s quite brilliant.’ Almost on cue, a child with speckled wings on his back appeared at Charles’ feet with a shy glance at the camera before announcing that he wants potato salad for dinner.

 

Cassandra laughed but then brought the mic up to her lips again. ‘This would not have progressed as far or as quickly without your help. You must feel very proud of yourself.’

 

‘It’s not just me; it’s the combined efforts of everyone who’s gathered at the square, all for one purpose; for mutant rights.’ He lowered his voice to speak with the boy, ‘we’ll go shopping for the ingredients after this, OK?’ Once the boy was ushered away by a blue woman, he returned his gaze to Cassandra. ‘I’m proud, but I’m proud for everyone who’s helped me.’

 

‘You fought the good fight, Mr. Xavier. Now tell us, what are your future plans?’

 

There was the slightest hint of a blush creeping up on his once-pale cheeks. One would attribute it to being left in the sun for so long. ‘Graduate, then open up my own school for gifted children.’

 

‘An excellent cause; wonderful, and I wish you all the best of luck. This is Cassandra Sanders, reporting live from Town Square.’

 

\--

 

Erik was watching them far away from the camera’s view with a smile on his face and his arms crossed. Charles looked immensely happy, had been since the news about mutant rights were officially passed. He practically fainted from sheer joy right in the middle of the living room floor when it was announced on the late-night news.

 

As soon as the red light above the camera flickered off, Cassandra leaned in for a hug and to whisper her congratulations for his hard work. The camera-man tipped his cap, gave a hearty handshake and a conspiring wink before he nudged his head in some vague direction. Without prompt, Charles turned and locked gazes with Erik, whose smile widened.

 

Charles waved, which Erik returned with a quick two-fingered salute. Charles returned to speaking with Cassandra and Roland, the camera-man.

 

After a quick promise to catch up another time, Charles trotted over to where he stood by the fountain, but just as Erik opened his mouth to greet the other, Charles clamped it shut with one hand over his lips.

 

‘I’m mutant, I’m proud, and I’m head over heels for you. Will you dignify that with a kiss?’ He asked with a twinkling humor in his eyes.

 

Without much effort, but with a growing fondness building up in his chest, he laid one hand over Charles’ hip and pried his hand away from his lips so he could speak. ‘What makes you think I feel the same way?’ He began in a tease.

 

‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day I met you in the hospital, and I know you’ve been thinking the same since the moment you saw me on national TV.’

 

‘Right,’ he said with a witty quirk of his eyebrow but couldn’t help but tug the man closer by his belt.

 

‘So?’ He began expectantly, almost giddy with nerves; new, exciting, refreshing.

 

‘No, because I’m old-fashioned and we have yet to go on a date, or two.’

 

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Erik, we’ve been going on dates since you started meeting me at the fountain for the past several days and weeks and months.’

 

He chuckled as he leaned closer to whisper in his ear. ‘Right, of course.’

 

‘So?’ Charles asked again, this time, slightly shaking, feeling just a little jumpy.

 

‘I suppose it’s only the next best step.’

 

‘Too right you are.’ He grinned as they kissed lightly.

 

The kids behind them screamed and simultaneously said ‘ewwww’. He ignored them with a deeper blush and a wider smile and another kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! An end. I can finally move onto another story, now. Wheee~~ Or one-shot, something. I like AU's, though; they're cool.
> 
> Now, the reason why I didn't put Charles/Erik up in the 'Relationships' tag is because...well...Erik didn't exactly appear until close to the very end, and he didn't exactly play a HUMONGOUS part throughout the story either, so...yeah...
> 
> Also, if anybody is actually interested, I have a Tumblr account! Find me at: http://straggling-wanderer.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> I do not pretend that I know anything about DNA, RNA or protein biosynthesis. I did some research concerning genetics and I ended up with a headache barely two paragraphs in. If you see anything weird, or off, that’s me being stupid. Please feel free to rant at me and correct me.
> 
> Also, I've got a tumblr account now! Feel free to add me or send me a message from there! My link is: http://straggling-wanderer.tumblr.com/


End file.
